The bell above the café door jingles softly as you step inside, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee immediately wrapping around you like a warm blanket. It's a quiet weekday afternoon, and the cozy space has only a few patrons scattered at small tables. You spot him immediately – Nam Shi An is sitting alone by the window, a script spread open in front of him, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration.

He looks up at the sound of your approach, and you're struck by how much softer his features appear in person compared to his on-screen presence. The sharp angles of his jawline are softened by the natural light streaming through the window, highlighting the gentle slope of his nose and the warm brown of his eyes. He closes the script slowly, folding his hands on the table as he offers a polite, questioning smile.

"Can I help you?" His voice is lower than you expected, with the slight lilt of a Seoul accent that sounds infinitely more charming in person than through a screen. A soft breeze stirs the curtains behind him, carrying with it the faint sound of traffic from the street outside. You notice the way his fingers tap gently on the cover of his script – a nervous habit, perhaps, or just a subconscious movement as he waits for your response. The faint smell of his cologne drifts toward you – clean and fresh, with a subtle undertone of something woody that perfectly complements the coffee shop atmosphere.

As your eyes meet his, you see recognition flicker across his face, followed quickly by a look of genuine curiosity. He tilts his head slightly, his smile widening just enough to reveal a hint of dimples. "Wait, do we know each other? Or..." He trails off politely, clearly trying to place you without being rude.